


I Hear It Calling, Calling to Me

by one_day_sooner



Series: Love tattoo [4]
Category: Band AU - Fandom, Hockey RPF
Genre: Background Richie/Carts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_day_sooner/pseuds/one_day_sooner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Patrick grows a pair and talks to Johnny. Bonus Richie/Carts action because how could I not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hear It Calling, Calling to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

"Hey man, can you hand me the 5/8th wrench?" Jon asked, wiping his hand on his faded and torn jeans before sticking it out behind him for the tool. His head was buried under the hood of a 1966 Mustang, a greasy bandanna sticking out of his back pocket and his white shirt streaked with oil. The wrench landed in his hand and he brought it forward, frowning when he saw that it wasn't the right size. "5/8th, man. Not 3/8th," he said, turning and trying not to look shocked that it wasn't the new guy he was training, but Patrick handing him the wrench he wanted. "Thanks," Johnny mumbled, turning back to the car. "Waiting room is through that door. You can talk to Rocker Rob for a price on whatever service you need."

"Johnny I need to talk to you."

"Patrick, I'm workin' here. I can't slack off cause we're swamped. See that Impala over there? Needs a whole new engine. That Bel Air needs the suspension adjusted, and the Caddy over there needs her brakes redone.  It's me and Tommy back here today and we can't. I don't have time now."

"Tonight, then. I'll meet you at that all night diner by the UC at nine. Please, Jon, please do this for me."

"Make it ten. I need to shower and I'm not off til eight thirty."

"Ten. Perfect. Just promise you'll be there?"

"Fine. I'll be there. Now get lost before my boss comes out here and yells at both of us."

******

Patrick showed up at nine anyway, wearing a pair of loose fitting jeans Johnny always said he loved on him and a blue t shirt his sisters said made his eyes unfairly pretty. Johnny walked through the door at 9:30, clean and looking sharp in a plain black shirt and his favorite leather jacket. He ducked out after spotting Patrick, only to come back in a moment later, a sheepish grin on his face as he sat across from him in the booth. 

"I uh. I sorta asked Frankie for a ride. She got the whole story outta me while she was fixin' my hair so...   You wanted to talk though, so lets get to it so I can move on."

If his words stung, Patrick didn't show it.  Johnny began stroking his hand over a healing tattoo on his arm as Patrick took a breath and started.  "I. I'm sorry. I know it's stupid of me to hope you'll forgive me but I truly am sorry. I saw the jersey and freaked. I know you know what hockey means to me and I just...  I began to think of how we would be together, on the ice. How we would have met years ago and probably fallen in love then or not but I would have always had you. Always." Patrick looked at the table and willed himself not to get emotional like he used to. "I thought of you playing, so serious and hard like you were at UND, and yeah I saw your highlights. Don't act like it wasn't anything because you were amazing. I could see why you'd been drafted. I saw your play and your pictures and I hated it. You looked like you were angry at the ice, Johnny, like you hated everyone who played against you."

"I did." Johnny murmured, taking a sip of water from the glass on the table. "But that isn't me anymore. I've let that go, you know?  This is me now. I fix other people's dream cars. I play music. I fall in love and get hurt. That kid never did. He didn't let anyone in, ever. "

"But he felt for others. I know. I read all about your junior year, the year before you'd have gone pro." Johnny stiffened and shook his head, silently asking Patrick not to go there. "You saved lives, Jon. I saw the articles, the people who owed their graduations, their lives to you. The Chicago owners fucked you over and good but you didn't get angry."

"I did," Johnny interrupted. "I was fucking furious. They tossed me aside because I was injured. It doesn't hurt anymore, the breaks. It healed well. It isn't like I couldn't be playing now if they'd kept their promise, but they didn't and I'm okay. I've got a great group of friends and I had a guy who loved me. I can deal."

"Have. Loves," Patrick corrected, finally looking up from Johnny's hands. "It was me. They thought you were too big a risk because they picked me in the next draft. Two young and reckless kids doesn't make for a stable team, you know?  They didn't know why you were in a burning building just that you were. They said they couldn't risk you doing that shit on a team. They didn't bother to learn anything else.  I only found out about this when I asked the owners about you point blank and threatened to stop dressing for games if they didn't tell me."

"As stupid as that was, you're not reckless, Pat. Never were as far as I could tell.  You're scrappy, sure, but you're not reckless." 

"I was. Sharp did a great job of kicking my ass into shape but... Before that I was a drinking, partying mess." Patrick grinned and looked back down at Johnny's hands. He reached a hand out to trace the tattoos he loved so much, biting his lip at the feel of raised skin. He pulled Johnny's hand toward him to trace his fingers over the two sparrows entwined on his arm. "When did you get these?" he asked, hating that he didn't know. 

"Few days ago. I kept thinking of you and didn't know what to do to get my mind off you, so I got a new tattoo." He turned his wrist up to show off the tattoo, a pair of sparrows with their tails twisted together and the words "Always True" along their wings. "Didn't  work out so well. My usual artist is a huge hockey fan, has pictures of almost every Blackhawks team since 1970 in his shop.  I spent the whole three hours of shading staring at a picture of you and Sharp lifting the Cup."

"Do you miss me?" Patrick asked suddenly, his fingers slipping down to press into Johnny's palm. "I'm not trying to be an asshole, I just need to know. Do you miss me?  Miss us as much as I do?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I miss you and yeah I miss us. But what are we doing, Patrick?  You're a pro hockey player. You can't just be with me. I mean what happens when you hit one milestone or another and I'm there to kiss you and let you hold me close?  The press will be all over that. It would end your career."

"It could. But the team knows about you, how you were... Basically, the best thing I've ever had in my life, hockey included. They won't oust me from the game because of who I'm going home to every night." Johnny was doing his best to pull away, trying to take his hand back but Patrick held tight. "Give me this one, Jon. One shot to make it right and I promise I won't fuck it up and run away again."

"You know, the guys and Frankie ain't about to let you off, no matter how long it's been since I've forgiven you. They'll wanna talk to you too you know."

"I had a feeling...  But for now, can we sneak out the back? I still kinda fear for my bodily safety with Frankie around."

Johnny let out a loud, whole hearted laugh and nodded, taking Patrick's hand. "Yeah , sure. But I'll drive us back home."

"Wouldn't want to get us wrecked, would you?" Patrick teased, remembering the night they met. 

******

"Fuck you, Brown!" Johnny yelled, watching Patrick help Sharpy get up off the ice. It was a clean, legal hit but it left Sharpy a little shaken as he skated to the bench. The Kings were up, 4-1 and Quick wasn't letting anything but a fluke blueline goal in the second through. Richards skated by during a TV time out , leaning over the bench to ask if Sharpy was ok, and Patrick shoved him away, a few quick words and a bright smile passing between them. Patrick pointed up at Johnny in his KANE 88 jersey, and Richards' jaw dropped before he nodded over at Carter who was skating lazy circles by the LA bench, giving him a sappy look before the two players went back to their teams.  Johnny raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend and Patrick grinned, mouthing "Dinner date!" back at him. 

Before the game Richie had caught up to him in the hallway. "Hey Kaner. Word around the league is you found Johnny Toews."

"That so? Yeah I found him. He's in a band and working in an auto shop on the east side, and MAN his work is amazing. He's finishing up a sexy '66 Mustang, shiny black with white detail." 

"Yours?" Richie asked, head tilting slightly. 

"Naw, I'm not trading in my Hummer any time soon. Why's it matter though?  You been looking for him?"

"Yeah man. Heard he was coming to the NHL then he disappeared. I played with him at world juniors. He was amazing. A total dick on the ice but great anyway. Funny as fuck, and actually liked fishing too. I missed him a lot. Good friend."

"Yeah. He's a great guy. He comes to a lot of games. Not all of them since his band tours a lot but enough that season tickets make sense."

"Cool. Maybe we can go out after the game. Carts would be in, I know. I used to talk about Jon all the time and I bet he's curious."

"Yeah but no fair teaming up to steal him from me. You two and Los Angeles? I'd lose for sure."

"Please. Carts would eat at me with this heartbroken look if I even joked about it. He's a little too protective, yanno?" 

"Johnny's the same way. After the game then. But for now, get the fuck out of here. I can't be seen fraternizing with the enemy."

"Whatever Kane. You're buying if I score tonight."

"And if I score?"

"I'll look out for flying pigs."

"Fuck off Richards. I score you buy."

"Like that's gonna happen. Quick has been a brick wall lately so you got a deal."

******

Johnny, Patrick and Jeff kept their laughter to a minimum as Richie dug out his wallet with a grumble, and if Jeff kissed Mike a little sweeter than usual before they left the restaurant, nobody would call him on it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "When the Night Comes Down" by Tiger Army. 
> 
> If you're still reading this, give it up for yourself! You rule. There's one more coming.


End file.
